


Those Days are Here

by Skullfuggery (OverwatchingYouSleep)



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, High School, Non-Graphic Violence, Reunions, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 21:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18533251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwatchingYouSleep/pseuds/Skullfuggery
Summary: You thought you had left Mount Ormond behind, and in a way you did.What you dragged along were the people.





	Those Days are Here

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commission piece, and a fun one to boot! I hope you enjoy it :]
> 
> I do more, including requests and commissions, @skulfuggery on tumblr

There was something to be said about complacency; growing content with even the most unsatisfactory of conditions. Enough time spent in any prison could make that prison feel like a home, even if you are hellbent from day one not to fall into that very pitfall. For you, that was school, and despite the unparalleled joy that came from graduating, you found yourself back in an educational institution in less than a year.

 

You never would have seen yourself growing up to work in a school. The very same prison that you yearned to escape from forever now had you coming in eight hours a day, five days a week, and willingly. Practically a direct betrayal to your years of teenage rebellion.

 

But the opportunity had been ripe. You had moved in not long after the school year had started and the person that had hired during the summer wasn't working out. Combine that with your intellect and stunning interview skills, and now you filed detention slips and checked in guests at the front doors of what was once the very reason you dreaded waking up in the morning. And now you got paid to do it.

 

That also meant you got the rare luxuries that you would have otherwise abandoned to your school days, and that meant snow days. Your new hometown of Kellers Creek hugged the border between British Columbia and Alberta, with more snow in the year than sunny days. But on days like this, where the sleet and flakes mixed into a runny slush that clogged drain pipes and iced over sidewalks and roads, the school system decided it would be better off safe rather than sorry.

 

And for you, that was like waking up on Christmas. You gave yourself a generous three more hours of sleep before getting out of bed, tightening the drawstring on your fuzzy pajama pants as you trotted down the hallway to your kitchen. The scene outside your kitchen window was not the pristine white of the idealistic snow day, but dreary gray of sleet mixed with soot and gravel. But that didn't bother someone with no plans to go out.

 

After fixing yourself a bagel with a hearty serving of jam and some hot chocolate, you walked your meal to your living room. You caught the red blip of a voicemail on your answering machine as you walked by, so you turned back after setting your dishes down and pressed the play button.

 

**_"You have--two--new messages."_ **

 

You dropped your ass smack dab in the center of your couch and grabbed your mug of hot chocolate off it's coaster. The marshmallows, buried in a bed of whipped cream and powdered sugar, kept the mountain of cream weighed down so that the cocoa wouldn't spill over the sides so easily. The same couldn’t be said of the sugar, which drizzled over your fingers with every movement.

 

**_"Message received at--7:40 a.m."_ **

 

The beep sounded as you took your first sip, cautious to get both the warm liquid and the cooler whipped cream in your mouth in careful proportions. You had it down to a science.

 

_ "Hi sweetie, it's Vivian!" _

 

You squinted, pulling the mug away from your lips. Your step-aunt? What would she want?

 

_ "I'm sorry I couldn't catch you before you left for work for the day--" _ You smirked, settling further into the comfort of your couch,  _ "--but it's probably better that I didn't, because I would've made you run late trying to catch you up on everything." _

 

_ Fortunately,  _ you thought with another sip, _ voicemails have a time limit. _

 

_ "But the important thing is, me and Douglas are moving back east and we have some of your things in our home in Ormond." _

 

Ormond. It was a town you had spent most of your childhood in, yet the fresh wounds are what left a sour taste in your mouth at the mention of it.  

 

_ "Mostly clothes, and your old CD player. Things are a little too tight to ship them to you, so if you want them you'll have make a trip out here by next weekend." _

 

Well, add that to a list of things that wouldn't be happening. Not that you had a grudge against your aunt, but you couldn't fathom your return to Ormond going over well. Not in such a small town where talk spread fast. You looked down at your mug, the towering peak of whipped cream resembling the iconic mountain Ormond was once known for. You had other things you were running from.

 

_ "We have them all ready for you. Also, I got your number from your Dad, I hope you don't mind. Anyways, I'll catch you up on everything when you get here, maybe you can stay for dinner?" _

 

You found yourself shaking your head at nobody, an uncomfortable smirk stretching your lips. Nope. Not a chance.

 

_ "Call me back and let me know, I'm sure it'll be a weekend with your schedule. And don't worry if you can't, I'll just leave them at your Dad's--" _

 

The machine clicked, signalling the premature end to her message. You chuckled and swiped the T.V. remote off the coffee table, turning on the massive gray box at the other end of the room. Let them do that. Your Dad would probably bring your things to you instead.

 

**_"Message received--November--23rd at--11:19 p.m."_ **

 

Then you wouldn't have to worry about running into--

 

_ "Hey kitten." _

 

The television's static filled the single silent beat in the room, followed by the deafening roar of dead air between channels. But there was no pause, no expecting a response. The machine pressed forward in the same breath.

 

_ "Listen, I get it. I get why you didn't say goodbye." _

 

Your heart, which had frozen in your chest, was suddenly pounding in your ears.

_ "I know you didn't think we'd just let you go." _

 

You lowered the remote to your lap, hands shaking.

 

_ "But it still hurt." _

 

You told Dad not to give him your number. Surely Vivian didn't either?

 

_ "So, you're gonna make things right with us. You hear me?"  _ In the background, a door slammed.  _ "Because we made a goddamn pact, and you don't get to break from that because you feel like it." _

 

Eyes screwed shut. You remembered that night. A night of drunken stupidity turned into a lifelong bond you had no intention of ever committing to. You didn't realize how serious it was to them. To him.

 

_ "Just come back home, and we can talk about this." _ For a moment, he almost sounded reasonable. Then, after a few tense beats, he added a quiet:  _ "Or else." _

 

Click.

 

You didn't know how long you stared at the gray bundles of static on the screen, but by the time you finally raised the trembling mug of hot cocoa to your lips again, it was cold.

 

\--

 

**_Your memories of that night were so far drowned in a bourbon-induced stupor, you struggled to recall most. Only one moment remained pristine, even though it wasn't long after it that you were passed out in the back of an old Ford._ **

 

**_The fire was close to out now, and nobody was feeling up to grabbing more firewood from the surrounding forest. The night had started early with a lengthy graffiti session on the backside of a grocery market, taking a bat to a sophomore’s car, and ended with two swiped bottles of alcohol and a hasty retreat to the lodge, amidst victorious laughter._ **

 

**_From there, the night dragged on pleasantly. The five of you slumped over each other around the trashed fire pit, Susie's legs resting in Joey's lap and her head in yours, giving enthusiastic purrs while you ran your fingers through her hair. Julie sat close to the fire, tending to the dying flames with a stick with no real illusion of effort. And Frank...._ **

 

**_He stood up with such force that it drew the eyes of everyone in the room. Yet, whatever he had to say waited a considerable moment while he took a swig of Red Stag and wiped the excess from his lips._ **

 

**_"You know, you guys...are the best friends I've ever had." A rare moment of sincerity, you exchanged a glance with Jules over the fire before turning your attention back to your boyfriend. "I feel like I finally found home here...you know?"_ **

 

**_"You don't want to stay in Ormond, do you?" Julie asked, and you had to sympathize. You and her had both lived in this dead-end town your whole lives, and like her you couldn't wait to get out. Frank shook his head with more force than necessary, sending a dangerous tilt on his already-unstable balance._ **

 

**_"No...no. Don't care about where I end up so long as it's with you guys," he said. He sat back down, shouldering up to you and giving you a dopey grin. "This thing we got going? This is the kind of thing that lasts for life."_ **

 

**_"Best friends forever," Susie added, her freckles drowned in the drunken blush that covered her cheeks. Joey reached for the bottle and Frank handed it to him, not taking his eyes off of you until his hand was free._ **

 

**_"So what do you say?" he asked, eyes moving from Joey to Jules in a quick sweep. "Make it official?"_ **

 

**_"Like, friendship bracelets?" you asked. Susie's eyes blew wide._ **

 

**_"Ooh, that's a good idea."_ **

 

**_"Not what I mean," Frank said, holding a hand out to the center of the loose circle you all had arranged. "Just a pact. A ride or die, you know? We'll stick together through anything."_ **

 

**_"We already do that," Joey interjected, wiping away liquor from his own lips. "Why make a pact?"_ **

 

**_"Because it helps my goddamn abandonment issues, Joey!" Frank snapped with an unmistakably wide grin on his face. Julie snorted._ **

 

**_"Yeah! Frank's a neglected puppy, you have to smother him or else he gets needy." The mood was light. The atmosphere was warm despite the snow falling through the cracks in the roof, and for a moment life was bliss as your hands all fell together in the center of the circle, smiles on each of your faces. And Frank had said words you hadn't realized were 100% serious._ **

 

**_"Legion forever."_ **

 

\--

You had to get out of dodge.

 

You were convinced he knew where you were. Why else would he bother calling, if he couldn't make good on his threat? You had no idea who in Ormond would have told him--or any of the gang--your location, but that didn't matter now. What did was getting somewhere safe, spending the night in a motel somewhere, and then--

 

And then what?

 

You groaned over your half-full backpack, clenching your laptop with bone-white knuckles. Run like you did before? How long could you keep that up, when you had a job now, and a lease? Could you really risk going bankrupt running from your bad high school decisions?

 

But it was more serious than that. You knew all of them well enough to know they weren't to be underestimated. You had seen the worst of their colors right before you scampered to Kellers Creek, leaving no clues to your whereabouts. You had wanted to keep it that way; a clean bookend to a downward spiral in your life that you were fortunate to get out of.

 

Of course it wouldn't be so simple. You could go to the police, but that would require putting down quite a bit of dirt on yourself as well. Was it worth it for the protection? If you managed to exclude the fact that you were a part of his gang, they would almost certainly bring it up and you could kiss your job goodbye anyways.

 

So here you were: trapped by a decision you made when you were young and dumb with nobody to turn to and nothing to do except burn your savings on a room and hope they weren't squatting your place when your account ran dry. Something that was inevitable, and the storm had only taken a couple of months to reach you.

 

You wanted to pack a good amount of things, but paranoia started getting the better of you and you finally settled on 3 changes of clothes, a pair of pajamas, basic toiletries and your laptop, so that you could e-mail your Dad and explain the situation.

 

He was already aware of your illicit activities. You had confessed it all to him through a tear-filled breakdown the night you watched Frank get violent for the first time. You told him about the vandalism, the shoplifting and the bullying. Then, the more recent crimes you had gotten into: the breaking & entering, the pickpocketing, the mugging. Watching Frank slam a man's head against brick when he refused to cooperate, then thumbing through the wallet like it was nothing.

 

And your father had listened. Agreed not to go to the police and helped you quietly get your things together to move away. Regularly called and made sure you were adjusting well so far from home, always concerned, always protective. If anyone would know a way to help you out of this, it would be him.

 

You rushed to wipe the slush off your car, swiping the insulated arm of your fur-lined coat over the windows until you were satisfied that you could see. You wrestled against the frosted-over door of the old Chevy until it popped open, tossing your bag onto the passenger seat and settling behind the wheel. You started the car and waited for it to warm, double checking mirrors and, you realized with a worried sigh, the backseat for any signs of movement.

 

You hated to admit how afraid you were. How scared you could be of your four best high school friends, people you had spent years getting to know. Your boyfriend, your first boyfriend, and how he promised you so many things that you had unceremoniously stomped on when you left. You knew it would break his heart, but the voicemail was right: You knew that it wouldn't have gone smoothly if you had told them about your plans to leave.

 

Legion forever. That was what you had promised that night. But that was a promise made before you were hurting people. Frank was charismatic, you knew it well, and you could see how he managed to convince the others to follow his lead. You could hardly blame them. Had it not been for the image of the man's broken jaw seeped into the underside of your eyelids, you probably would have swallowed your words too.

 

Engine warmed, seatbelt on, you peeled down your tiny lane and out onto the wider road, through the mile stretch that led to the rest of Kellers Creek.

 

\--

 

The weather wasn't as nasty as the news made it out to be, but it was far from easy to navigate. You flicked the windshield wipers on with your pinky, strayed closer to the edge of the road to be well clear of the yellow lines. Snow plows had obviously gone over the street once but there had been enough residue building up to need a second sweep. You passed a side street that had a snow plow at work, but on the main road you didn't see a soul.

 

You started to pass convenience stores and restaurants, warm amber lights glowing from their windows against the off-white flurry that had covered the rest of the world. You made the first right and started on a road you rarely took; one that lead out to the nearest highway. You figured 20 miles out would be safe. They had no way to track you, after all.

 

This road was a little busier the further out you got, but you could still count the number of cars you passed on one hand. Nobody was on your side of the road, the two lanes barely showing the tire tracks of the last car to drive on them. You kept an even 10 miles below the speed limit and cruised, finally deciding to turn the radio on some 20 minutes into your journey.

 

The first station you found was a top 50, the next a kitschy country station, and the third a college radio station that you could barely make out over the static. You settled for the top hits, turning the volume low and letting your muscles sink into the chair. You were still afraid, but with every mile you put between you and where you knew he would be, you felt a bit safer. Like you had more time to plan your next move, like you could stay one step ahead.

 

Just as you approached the crest of a hill, a truck coming the other direction breached it first, the high beams shining directly into your eyes. You gently tapped the break as you moved to get out of the direct light, squinting and holding your hand over your face.

 

"Yeah, nice one, asshole," you muttered as the truck came to pass. You put both hands back on the wheel, slowly easing back up to your moderate speed. You moved over the hill and began to descend, foot placed cautiously on the brake in case you needed to regain control.

 

You happened to glance at your side mirror as you neared the bottom of the decline, watching a similarly bright pair of headlights rise over the hill behind you, then begin descending with much less restraint than you.

 

_ Wait, _ you realized with a start,  _ isn't that the same--! _

 

You veered into the right lane just in time to avoid being rear-ended to hell and back, the truck carrying the momentum of its descent a few hundred meters ahead, where it made a sudden right turn and drifted until it had effectively blocked both lanes of traffic.

 

Your heart sank, through your stomach and underneath your drivers seat, until it froze on the black ice covering the road.

 

The doors all opened in tandem, booted and sneakered feet stepping out of every one until four pairs had stepped down and landed on the icy blacktop. You clenched the steering wheel with both hands, eyes darting for any escape, any break in the guardrail between lanes for a way out.

 

One of them shouted something at you from up ahead, but you weren't listening. You had precious few seconds of head start: you needed to make use of it. You shoved the gear stick in park in the same instant you ripped your keys out of the ignition, pushing your door open and dashing for the median.

 

You hadn't spent long enough away from this lifestyle for its skills to go rusty. You vaulted the concrete barrier with ease, swinging your legs over and dashing over the opposite two lanes with a desperate glance in either direction. No incoming cars. No help.

 

"Come back!" The first solid sentence you were able to pluck out of the cacophony of voices chasing after you as you slid down the embankment. Come back to being a criminal? Come back to a dead end life, where your only options would be jail, rehab, or something worse? You had no interest in running from the law for the rest of your life. Your four best friends? You'd have to take your chances with.

 

You waded through the snow pile created from the plows doing their work, scampering into a pitiful excuse for a forest where the skinny trees provided little cover. You were thankful you brought your good boots, even if you had never expected to run into them on the way. What were you thinking, going west and on the only road that led into town from that direction?

 

Something was shouted about your tires, and when you stole a glance over your shoulder, you saw Susie retreat out of sight on the road above while the others slid down the embankment with the same grace you had used. Without another second wasted, you turned and sprinted with everything you had in you.

 

You hadn't lived here long enough to learn the geography. Would these woods break open to a neighborhood, another small town or would you continue to plunge deeper into the wilderness, farther from help while the others closed in? This fear was only compounded in knowing that this was your only option. There was nowhere to hide, no shortcuts or ways around it. Your only hope was your endurance and dumb luck.

 

But both had to run out eventually.

 

It was Joey that finally closed the gap, his fingers hooked into your fur-lined hood and dragged you back with a choke hold that instantly sent you off your feet and onto the cold ground.  Two sets of footsteps slowed to a stop beside you, four sets of breaths trying to calm as you worked your way through stars and a sudden, pounding headache.

 

"You sure like making things difficult." You squinted, parsing through falling flurries and a dusk sky to make out which of the three figures above you was Frank. He made it easy, kneeling down and resting his cold, boney fingers over your cheek. "That's for fucking sure."

 

He moved his mask away, letting you see his expression. Even under the dark shadow of his hood It was clear on his face that he was just as unsure where this moment would lead as you were. He looked torn between wanting to strangle you and kiss you, the broken imbalance of a man so used to being abandoned and yet never by you.

 

"Frank," you tried. Maybe reason could still get you out of this. "I couldn't take it anymore. You guys were the best, and I loved spending time with you, but when we started hurting people, I just...I couldn't, okay?"

 

"Why not?" he asked. You heard the crunch of Susie's footsteps approach and soon her bright pink hair joined the other silhouettes that stood over you. You blinked back a wave of tears.

 

"Because I had fun with you guys, and hurting people isn't fun for me!" you barked, moving to sit up. Too quickly, your headache sent your brain swirling around in your head like a snowglobe, and Frank's hand seized your upper arm to keep you from going any further. When you were confident you wouldn't black out, you continued in a low, shaky voice. "I didn't want to argue with you Frank, so I did what I thought I had to do."

 

He sighed, but it was not one of understanding. It was resigned, annoyed, like this was not the answer he had traveled all the way out here to receive. You saw a flash of white in Julie's hand, pulled out of Frank's backpack. The single black teardrop on the side sent a shiver down your spine, as did the single fleck of blood that had dried to the lower half. Things you had left behind. Things you never intended to face again.

 

"We just need--" Frank said, taking the mask from Julie and sliding it over your face, while you were still too concussed to squirm away. "--to toughen you up."  

\--

 

The night was young; so young that you found it odd that a man would be so brazenly drunk in public this time of day. He was slumped lazily in his booth, smiling over a cup of coffee and slowly working his way through a hearty order of pancakes. You caught whiffs of rum as you passed by on the way in, and even now he showed no signs of sobering up.

 

You weren't the only one eying him down, you noted with a sideways glance.  Tucked together in a corner booth, you found yourself right in the middle stuck between Susie and Frank, the former in a conversation with Joey while Julie scanned over the table menu of desserts. Frank's focus was pointed, it seemed his eyes had found their way to the same patron. Then, they glanced over to you.

 

"Seems like he's in a good mood," he commented, scratching on his weak, patchy stubble. You shrugged and rested your hands on the table.

 

"There's a motel right across the street," you said with a thoughtful tap of fingers on wood. "What're the chances he's staying there?"

 

"I only saw one other car in the parking lot," Frank responded, jerking his head over his left shoulder. You peeked and sure enough, a couple was eating in a booth not far from you. "Good eye, babe."

 

"Same to you." He smiled then, wide and far too light-hearted for the wicked deed you were conspiring to commit. You scooted your foot to the right, where Frank's bookbag sat at the base of the table, holding all of your masks and other instruments essential to a night of debauchery. 

 

Your toe had barely touched the fabric when you met the hard leather of Frank's boot, already resting on the bag. You made eye contact again, and slowly you found your legs inching closer to his. He stared down at you, the diner’s lighting accenting him in a way you never saw beneath his massive hood, and even as he switched to business mode the smile never quite left his face.

 

"Pack it in, we're taking our food to go," Frank announced quietly, hooking his foot in the bag's strap and pulling it where he could reach. Julie groaned and dropped the menu.

 

"We just sat down," she complained. The other two didn't look so pleased either, but one by one they sat up straight and started to shimmy out of the booth. You knew the plan without words: Wait in the truck until he comes out.

 

"Leaving already?" The waitress was just leaving the kitchen, your drinks perched on her tray meticulously balanced on her right hand. You stepped forward, already pulling money out of your wallet.

 

"Something came up, can we get those drinks to go?" You pursed your lips for a moment in thought, then added, "Matter of fact, can I get a hot chocolate too? Whipped cream with marshmallows and powdered sugar on top?"

 

Even without facing him you could feel Frank's smug grin crawling down your back throughout your entire exchange with the woman, and you refused to acknowledge it even as you went to stand beside him while she prepared your drinks.

 

"That's sweet. Just like I taught you?"

 

Instead you glanced back over to the drunk man, your newest victim. He seemed to be nearing the end of his meal, and he began fiddling in his pockets for a wallet, one of blue leather that seemed stuffed to the brim between cards and cash. All things you could tell just from a glance. It wasn't a skill you'd always had, but it had come with time.

 

"Yep," you replied, "Just like you taught me."

  
  
  
  



End file.
